


On a calm night

by Alayne_StoneColdFox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alayne_StoneColdFox/pseuds/Alayne_StoneColdFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alayne finds herself unable to sleep, so when Petyr slips into her room past midnight, she welcomes him under the covers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a calm night

Alayne lay abed, her mind and eyes weary, but with no relief of sleep. 

It was a calm night, with moonlight streaming in from the stone slit window of her chambers, falling on the empty space in the bed besides her. She wished for one of the stormy nights, with lashing rain, and cracks of thunder, bolts of lightning....the household found her odd, to enjoy such nights, but Alayne found them calming. Distracting. Curse this quiet night, in this bare chamber, with nothing but her awful, awful thoughts.

A night only earlier this week, Alayne had dreamt of awaking and simply walking up the stone steps to the battlements, stepping up to the edge in her nightgown, and simply stepping off . All in a storm of lashing rain and thunder. It would be so calming, she thought. Of course, she'd only woken up. Here in this same bed, still alone, nothing changed, and the all encompassing wish that she had the courage to get up from the pillows and walk that same path from her dreams. It had been so real..

Her ears pricked at the sound of padding feet outside her door, the night quiet enough to hear such light footfalls. A guilt gripped her. Such awful, awful thoughts...to think if he knew she'd had them. No...no. Petyr would hate her forever if she left him. He was the force that always dragged her back from the edge of those battlements. He was the only light she had in this dreary castle, on this dreary rock, and Alayne knew she must not worry him with her dreary thoughts. 

Alayne rolled over to face the door, as it creaked open gently.

He often visited her chambers this late at night. More often when there was one of the storm. Perhaps that was the reason she liked those nights, she realised. It was the time she had him close. She knew she should put a stop to it soon....perhaps she should have stopped him long ago. It was wrong to encourage it, but she found she liked the warmth of him, being able to wrap her arms around him...her reason for being here. Her sweet boy.

“Mother,” came the small whine, and Alayne lifted the covers.

“I'm here, sweet boy. Climb in.”

There was a scuffle as her boy pulled himself up onto the high edge of the bed, and she pulled him close across the sheets, as he nestled in besides her.

Petyr was still so small for his age, and perhaps that was why she still babied him so. He may be her only baby, she had often thought, as this war went on, with no news being brought back here to the fingers. No one passed this way to give news. Perhaps no one even thought it of importance, to report the death of the small Lord Baelish. 

If he truly is dead, I will join him. I will, she thought, before closing her eyes, wishing she hadn't.

She pulled Petyr into her chest and inhaled the scent of his hair, black and wavy, like hers.

They stayed like that in silence before she heard a mumble “You said he would be back by now.”

It was accusing. His sadness uttered with annoyance. A little boy who didn't understand.

“I said he will be back soon...and soon may be tomorrow, or it may be in a moonturn, or it may be a moonturn after that.” she assured him with a kiss atop his head, but his tone didn't change.

“But you said he promised to be back soon in his letter! You said!”  
Alayne regretted telling him the lies of ravens bearing news. They were meant to comfort him, to quieten him, when she could not bear him crying in her lap. Father will be back soon, he has written. He has won so many battles, and fights so valiantly, he can't be beaten! He will be back to see us, so there's no need to cry so.

But her little boy was smart. He had started to ask to see these letters, as time wore on, and she had nothing to show, saying they had been misplaced, or thrown to the fire. One evening she even found him with sooty hands, and gathered that Petyr had been searching through the hearth, looking for scraps of parchments that didn't exist.

“Your father wants to come back, he does, but he is needed in battle, as is a lords duty,” Alayne recited the exact line her husband had tried to comfort her with before he left.

“There are lots of lords! They don't need him! If he wants to come back home, they can't stop him, that's not fair!” 

There was ever the argument to be had with her sweet boy. He never just took things as they were handed to him, there was always a retort. If he did not have such a charming smile, and a glint in his grey green eyes, he would be insufferable, always asking her why this, why that, always testing his limits, and hers....he was too smart for his own good, everyone said, but Alayne wanted her boy no other way.

“No....no, it's not fair, is it? I want him back too,” she was honest, and that seemed to settle him, as they lay their under the covers.

“Will I have to go and fight in the war?” came his next sleepy mumble.

Alayne laughed, even as she felt she could have easily have cried.

“No, sweet boy. It will not last that long,” she said, ignoring the rising thought that by the time her boy was old enough to swing a sword, and wear a helm, and march, then all the great houses may have come up with another reason to fight amongst themselves....and that perhaps by that next time, there will be no other lord Baelish to return to fight again.

Her husband marched off to earn glory, to earn respect, he said. He wanted the name Baelish to inspire more than mockery, to be known, to have honor....but what where they worth, Alayne thought? They didn't have much here, true, but it was folly to chase after more at the value of your life. Petyr would not be so foolish, Alayne told herself. If his father has gotten himself killed on a desperate yearning for more than his life has given him, then Petyr will stay here and be the Lord of the Fingers. Smart, and kind, and fair. He would have a nice wife. Alayne always wanted a daughter, and perhaps she will gain one from a marriage. One of the girls from the village, if they grew up pretty and sweet. Yes, Petyr would be a good lord, she thought.

No, her boy would take no part in these noble houses and their petty squabbles. 

He was her sweet boy, and he would do good in this world, instead.

**Author's Note:**

> HA I BET YOU THOUGHT- 
> 
> but yeah. I wish we had more info on Petyr's parents.


End file.
